Phule's Charge in
by TheCentauress
Summary: It's the future. Somehow, a cretain member of the NWC is now a part of Phule's Company. Join the fun and watch as Corporal YinYang meets the Omega Mob!


**Phule's Charge In,** or **Ranma ½ in the Legion**

  
  


Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is not mine. Neither is the Phule's series. Broke enough that I can't even rent attention, so suing won't even get satisfaction...

  
  


  
  


_Entry #645:_

_In the course of my time working with my esteemed employer and his, for lack of a better set of terms, group of misfits and losers, there are members that stand out Escrima, the chief of the Company, is a man of great passion, sometimes of too great for his own good. First Sergeant Brandy, a woman who's abilities ans skills for combat are wrapped in a form that can drive lesser men to distraction. The Gambolts, the felinoids who are the best hand to hand fighters, bar damn few others._

_And then there is Corporal Yin/Yang. A strange person, to be sure; regardless of such, in the single day that this Legionaire has been here, this sentient has made more than a few impressions..._

_Least of which, the impression that he undoubtedly left with General Blitzkreig._

  
  


Headquarters, to the military mind, is often thought of as being a large building, in which stodgy old Generals thought of ways to make the common soldiers lives living hells. For most soldiers, this is just a fallacy. For Willard Phule, _nee_ Major Jester, this is nothing more than fact.

General Blitzkreig, his face buried in the flimsies that his atache, Major Sparrowhawk, had given him earlier, began to chortle heartily.

The major, her interest piqued, stuck her head into the office. "Sir," she asked in a neutral voice, "is there anything bothering you?"

The veteran soldier lifted a wildly grinning face to look at the compact female legionaire. "This trouper is perfect for that buffoon in control of that bedamned Omega Mob," he stated through his chuckling. He waived the folder, which bore a pair of holophotos. "The person is a hell of a fighter, but has repeatedly been busted to the lowest ranks for insubordination. If I put this 'Stallion' with the group of convicts that Jester has, it'll be like dropping a pocket nuke into a munitions dump!"

The major schooled her features. She knew full well who this 'Stallion' was. True, the Legionaire in question had been busted repeatedly for breaking orders of the local superiors; but once the story reached a higher level, facts began to emerge that shone a much harsher light upon the people that punished the Stallion than the offender themself.

"Why, right here," the general continued, waving the hardcopy file in the air, "this Stallion had just reached the rank of Sergeant, when she was busted back down for striking members of the cadre!" His face split into an evil grin. "Send this loose cannon to Zerobia!"

The major withdrew her face from the doorway, allowing herself to snarl silently. As she returned to her desktop data terminal, she thought of the incident in question. Stallion was one of the rare people afflicted with a form of hermaphrodism that flipped genders completely. At one minute, the legionaire would be completely male, a beefcake that made even the most statid woman hot and bothered. The next, the body would twist into a female body that would change the beef into cheese. Many men would suddenly test the structural integrity of stationary objects using their bodies.

It was during on of Stallion's female periods that the cadre in question, who were later found to be an entire gang of interstellar sexual fiends, had attempted to assault her. Unbeknownst to them, Stallion held an insane number of Grandmaster rankings in diverse forms of hand to hand combat. None of the officers in question were killed, but the medicos were scratching their heads as to how Stallion was able to tie unbroken limbs into shapes that usually needed balloons to make. Once the facts of the incident began to come into the open, the other female members of the unit began to speak out in defense of their savior.

She checked the ordres, then slipped a few extra surprises into the packet before she transmitted it to it's destination. She tried very hard to suppress the vulpine grin that threatened to split her face in half.

*** *** ***

The Legionaire set down the oversized dufflebag by his knee and leafed through the packet of printouts held under his arm. "Lessee," he muttered irritatedly, "they changed my name, not too bad. This major has a sense of irony, give 'er that. Working with,.... hmm, 'Jester'. Oh, yeah, him!" The man took a moment to scratch his neck, just under the braid that draped down the back of his uniform to almost reach his waist. "If'n he's anything like the rumors I heard, I might just like this, wazzat called, 'Phule's Company'?"

The darkhaired trouper stood there, reading the material, while a tall woman dressed in a form-fitting version of the Legion's black-and-violet Casual Dress Uniform, strode up to him. She positioned herself directly in front of the befuddled man and waited. He continued to mutter, and the woman began to tap her foot irritatedly.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat loudly.

The man looked up, raised an eyebrow, then returned to studying his packet. She remained standing there, motionless.

"CO is Major Jester," he read from his paperwork. "XO is a Captain Rembrandt, Adjutant is Captain Armstrong."

"First Sergeant is Sergeant Brandy," the woman filled in, her voice laced with a bit of irritation.

He read on. "Yeah," he replied. "Says here, 'Sergeant Br....'." Realization hit him in that exact moment. He glanced up from under the shaggy flip of hair over his forhead. "That's you, hunh?" he asked in a sheepish voice.

Brandy couldn't keep the slight smirk from her face. "That's me, trouper," she confirmed, sticking out a hand to receive the envelope he held. She looked at the face of the envelope, then at the younger man for a moment, then back at item in her hand. "So are you Yin or Yang?"

He straightened, then shrugged. "Kinda' both," he admitted. "Triseras, slaved to water temperature. Call me Yang when I'm like this. Is that gonna be an issue?"

Brandy sighed. "Between a Vortron, two Sithians and three Gambolts, not that much," she admitted.

Yang winced. "Ah, man," he grumbled. "Don't put me near the c-c-cats, please."

The first sergeant gave him a puzzled look. "You're not racist, are you?"

He waved his hands rapidly. "Nah, nah," he yelped. "I'm kinda aller, alear, ..."

Brandy caught on. "Alluraphobic?" she inquired. At Yang's nod, she groaned. "How bad is it?"

The dark-maned younger man grimaced slightly. "Better than it was," he admitted. "Used to be, I'd flip out around a single Terran housecat. Now, it takes being cornered by a Gambolt or a Terran hunting cat to do it."

The large woman blinked. "Flip out..." she muttered, then her eyes widened. "You're the Stallion!"

Yang smirked. "Was," he corrected. "Much like the commander, my handle was changed."

The female sergeant grinned. "Grab your gear and follow me, then," she stated in a chuckle. "I'm sure you're going to fit in with the Mob."

The dark haired young man did as he was told, unsuccessfully hiding his own small smile.

*** *** *** ***

Inside their temporary compound, the conversation among the Leigonaires was about the soon-to-arrive transferee. Opinions varied widely.

"I heard that the newbie is a fighter," Do-wop chimed. "He's been bounced around, always getting in trouble for smackin' around the brass."

Tuskanini growled deep in his throat. "He do that to Captain," the Vortron said, cracking his giant-sized fists ominously, "then I hurt him."

Super-Gnat placed her tiny hand on her wingman's harry arm. "Calm down, Tusk," she soothed. "I heard that the guy always had a good reason for the fights." She gave the others a sheepish grin. "Word is, the guy is a duo-gen. The fights he got into were because of that."

Sushi sighed. "It's coming clearer," he mused. "Even now, people have to discriminate against people who are different. Look at us; if it weren't for the Captain, most of us would be still slogging through the swamps on Haskin's."

The others digested this. As they were lost in thought, Sergeant Brandy entered the room, followed by a woman that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a half-sized version of her. "Hey, troops," she bellowed, causing everyone to look up. "I've got a new one here!"

Rev blinked a few times, then his face lit up in a wide, teeth-showing grin. "Why, hello, little lady," he greeted the new arrival. "I'm the Rev. You the Top's kid?"

The small woman glanced at the clergyman, her eyes showing confusion for a moment. Then getting into the part, her face broke into a wide, child-like grin. "Oh, yes, sir!" she twittered. "Momma is so great, asking me to come with her!"

The tall woman gaped, then spun to look at the smaller redhead. Giving her a quick once-over, she gulped. "Yin?" she squeaked.

The smaller woman laughed. "The look on your face!" she howled. "Even if I get a lifetimes-worth of KP, it was worth it!"

This was the straw that snapped everyone's control. In an invisible wave, the assembled sentients began to laugh uproariously as they watched their first sergeant continue to look over the new person.

After a moment, Brandy shook her head, then cleared her throat. Once the others regained control of their laughter, she waved at the still-grinning smaller woman. "Everyone," she stated, growling slightly, "this joker is not my daughter, appearances aside. This is Yin, the new recruit. Yin is a Triseras, so if she would do so, you might see a new man here that looks a lot like her. He is Yang."

Yin looked around the room, finally spotting a small sink. "Sarge," she interrupted, "I can do that now."

Brandy nodded. "Do it," she agreed.

The small red haired woman trotted over to the sink and turned on the hot water. "Before I do this," Yin warned, "I'll tell you this: I was born male, so I like to be treated as that." She stuck a hand under the stream of water and morphed back into a slightly larger male. He shut off the water, scratched the back of his head and sighed. "I'm Yang. Sorry 'bout this."

  
  


TO BE CONTINUED.......

  
  


  
  


Well, here's the beginning of a new fic. I loved to read Robert Asprin's Phule series and began to think of what it might be like if the Omega Mob were to meet the Wild Horse. Hence, Phule's Charge In. I hope people like it!


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